


I Won't Say I'm in Love

by PusillanimousBitch1138



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Arishok - Freeform, Battle, Blood, F/F, Injury, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 12:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PusillanimousBitch1138/pseuds/PusillanimousBitch1138
Summary: Hawke nearly doesn't win the battle against the Arishok, and Isabela is beside herself.





	I Won't Say I'm in Love

The ground is stained red, blood running like tiny rivers from where they lay. The whole world seems to hold its breath for what feels an eternity before Anders is running, sliding along the floor to her side. She’s injured, the red staining her white hair like rose petals against snow. Her similarly white unseeing eyes aren’t moving, even as Anders is fixating on her wounds.

Isabela is only vaguely aware of Merrill’s weeping into her shoulder, of Fenris standing stoically beside them, of the crowd of lords and ladies cheering victory over the dead Arishok. Everything sounds so far away, and Isabela is drifting out to a turbulent sea amidst a hurricane.

“Is she…?” Was that her voice? She couldn’t be sure.

Anders’s hands were flying furiously across Hawke’s body, doing his damndest to put her back together again. He doesn’t look away from his work as he calls back, “Not yet.”

 _Not yet. Yet._ Meaning she could. It’s not impossible. She could still… And it was all her fault. If Isabela had ever had a singular brain cell in her body, it had not been used to prevent her from taking the book. Neither the first time nor this last. If she’d only said no to this one job, if she’d not run, if she’d insisted Genevieve let the Arishok take her…

Isabela was moving, though by what force, she did not know. She knelt by Genevieve’s head and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Don’t you do this to me, Hawke.”

Anders gave her a sympathetic glance as he worked. Isabela sat there while he did, staring down at the face of her lover, now bearing a deep gash across her nose and cheeks from the Arishok’s blade. The three of them waited on bated breath for what must have been nearly an hour before Anders finally slumped over and wiped his forehead. He flashed Isabela a weak smile before waving for Fenris to come over. “We can move her.” His voice came out strained, and he must truly have been weak for he did not brush Merrill’s helping hands away from him. He allowed her to help him stand as Fenris knelt down to ever so gently pick up their fallen leader, Isabela rising with him, supporting the woman’s head as they started for Hawke’s mansion.

The whole way there, the battle kept replaying in Isabela’s mind. The fight had taken rather a long time, and Hawke had had to drink more than a few potions to stay afloat. Though none had ever seen a blind woman fight so well as Hawke (nor even someone who possesses pristine eyesight,) this fight had been difficult for her. The Arishok moved with a swiftness that was difficult to anticipate, his blade slicing through the air cleanly and without hesitation. It was difficult for Genevieve to anticipate his attacks, straightforward as they were. It didn’t help that the nobility in the room kept chattering, making it harder for her to listen. She’d taken many hits before the final blow—more than a few managing to make it past her armor to her arms, her legs, her midsection. Towards the end, she’d been obviously bloodier than the Arishok, though she’d made a few more precise hits on him. The fact he wore no armor on half his body made it all the easier.

And then the final blow. The scene would haunt Isabela for the rest of her days, she was sure of it. The Arishok had struck true and hard, his blade going clean through Genevieve’s stomach. The women in the room gasped before a silence fell over the crowd. Hawke had spat blood, eyes going wide, and the Arishok grinned sinisterly. He’d been foolish, though, and let his guard down just enough for Hawke to take the dagger from her belt and drive it into his heart. He went down hard, with a thud that reverberated throughout the room, and Hawke fell to her knees, gasping for air around her pain. With a great strength, she pulled the blade out from her body and let it clatter to the floor beside her, blood gushing down her body. She’d turned towards them at the last second, unseeing eyes seeming to stare straight into Isabela’s soul before she offered the woman a bloodied smile. Then she crumpled to the floor. Isabela was sure she’d see that smile in her nightmares for years to come.

They put her in her bed, and Fenris and Merrill said their goodbyes. Merrill insisted on giving Isabela a suffocating hug and a peck on the cheek before Fenris escorted her home. “This really must be the end of days,” Isabela muttered.

Anders chuckled as he took up a seat by Hawke’s side. “You can say that again.”

The pirate watched as he drank two full bottles of lyrium potion before he took up work again, and she hovered awkwardly in the corner, not wanting to get in the way. “Is she… will she be alright?”

“I think so. She has some bad internal injuries that I am concerned about, but I’m doing my best.” He cast her a glance and smiled slightly. “She’s strong, Bela. If it were anyone else…”

Tears prickled her eyes, but she forced them down and nodded. “She’s too hardheaded to die.”

Anders spent another hour working, and by the time he felt sure enough to leave, his complexion had lightened considerably. He was nearly as pale as Hawke’s hair. Bodahn insisted he stay in the guest room that night, not just for Hawke’s safety but for Anders’s as well. Isabela wholeheartedly agreed, and they shared a meager dinner together before Anders retired for the night. Isabela found her way back to Hawke’s room where she stood in the doorway, staring at the other woman for an eternity. Eventually, she stepped into the room and picked up the water basin and a cloth before moving over to the bed. With more gentility than she had ever done anything in her life, Isabela began to clean the blood off of Hawke. She started with her hands, calloused from so many years of wielding a sword, then moved up her impossibly strong arms and across her chest. She left her midsection alone for fear of hurting her, but she hesitated at the face. Tears prickled at her eyes as she stared down at her lover, and an unfamiliar ache settled in her chest. The wound was going to scar despite Anders’s efforts, a constant reminder of what she’d done, what she’d risked for Isabela. She had bruising beginning around her left eye stemming from a hit to her eyebrow from where the Arishok had clocked her with the hilt of his blade, and her beautifully pouty lips were stained red with her blood. Isabela worked on getting as much of the blood off as she could, as much as she dared, before she set the cloth down. Hawke’s snowy hair was still a dark red, but Isabela didn’t want to disturb her to try to get it out.

The pirate sat back down and took Hawke’s hand in her own. A single tear slid down her cheek, the only traitor that dared, and her voice cracked when she finally spoke. She kept her voice quiet, soft, barely more than a whisper. “You’re a damned fool, Hawke. You should’ve let him take me. You could’ve been killed, nearly were killed, and I’m not worth dying over.”

One of Hawke’s fingers twitched in Isabela’s hand, and the tiniest of voices came from the injured woman. “Course you are, Izzy.” Isabela’s eyes snapped up to Hawke’s face, but her eyes were still shut, not that she would be able to see Isabela if they weren’t. For a moment, she thought she saw a small smile on Hawke’s lips, and Hawke squeezed her hand weakly. “I love you too much to lose you.”

Isabela blanched and swallowed hard. She cleared her throat and leaned closer to whisper, “You just go on back to sleep now, dove.” It didn’t take long for Hawke to comply, her breathing evening back out and her hand going slack as she was dragged back to sleep.

 _Love._ She sat back and pondered it for a long while, rolling over the word in her head. They’d talked about this before. Isabela had been very plain about her aversion to attachment. It was obvious to anyone with a smidgeon of sense that Genevieve was in love with Isabela. Sure, she’d had a quick fling with Anders once upon a time, just some light teasing and a one-night stand, but she’d not had anyone since Isabela first shared her bed. The two of them spent a lot of time together, both in the bedroom and outside it, and Genevieve always seemed more relaxed and happy around her. She’d never said the L word before, though. Was it just because Isabela was uncomfortable with it, or was it because she’d not herself realized? And why the admission now? Was it because she’d almost died and realized its importance or because she was in pain and delirious? The latter was more likely, Isabela thought. Hawke probably wouldn’t even remember she’d said it given how battered she was.

And though it would hurt Genevieve if she’d remember, Isabela wasn’t ready to say it back. She felt something for this woman, something so strong she would rather have been taken into slavery than let her risk her life like she had, but she couldn’t say it yet.

_I just hope that’s alright with you, sweetling._


End file.
